


A Hole and a Hard Place

by thirsyduck



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: M/M, Smut, fucked through a hole in the wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:54:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thirsyduck/pseuds/thirsyduck
Summary: On the run from St. Canard's two heroes, Negaduck tries escaping through a hole in the wall, which leads to...predictable results.
Relationships: Drake Mallard/Jim Starling, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack, Launchpad McQuack/Jim Starling, Launchpad McQuack/Negaduck
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	A Hole and a Hard Place

St. Canard’s summer nights were hot and the smelly, muggy air practically soaked Jim as he continued to struggle. He was sweating and the part of his hat that connected with his head was drenched with it. There were no sounds of city life; night was when the vermin cast out to the edges of society scurried to its center. Stealing what they could before scampering away back to their dark recesses and before the first light of dawn broke.

Negaduck grunted, struggling to escape from his brick packed prison. After a mostly successful attack on St. Canard’s capital—mostly successful because he had blown up a wing of the building, but no one had _died_ , unfortunately—he had been on the run from Dipshit Duck and his dimwitted sidekick. The two idiots had chased him on foot from the scene of the crime to the city’s far edges. Where the criminal underbelly of the city rolled over and gut checked anyone foolish enough to step up.

Negaduck had been, when he first made his debut. Only he hadn’t been knocked down and gutted like most idiots, but rather pushed back, rocked the city to its knees, and made it his bitch. Nothing happened in the darker corners of St. Canard, not a pocket picked or a penny pinched without the offender first thinking; _will this piss Negaduck off?_

Which was why whoever had made this damn wall was going to _die_ the second he freed himself from the hole he’d tried crawling through.

He growled, grunted, slammed his one free fist onto the grime stained, muddy-red bricks and was too mad to even enjoy the pain. How humiliating. Having escaped the dumbass duo, he’d tried taking a shortcut to his lair by weaving through the various decrepit alleyways St. Canard’s tax dollars were too good to fix. Cops didn’t even patrol the area unless called, and calling the cops would definitely piss the city’s new crime lord off.

So, the pigs never came to roll in the mud with the rest of the city’s filth.

The hole had looked large enough when he had first skidded into the alleyway. Broken bricks had jutted out its sides, but Negaduck was still in the prime of his life. A fit young- _ish_ mallard, all lithe muscle and with only a _slightly_ protruding waste; should have been easy. But then he’d dove in, one arm outstretched, and the broken bits of brick had snapped around him, digging into his sides. Most of his torso and an arm where on one side of the wall, the rest of him the other. His ass hung in the air and only the tips of his webbed feet touched the ground. It was the kind of shit he’d seen in badly lit pornos, not something that happened to the most infamous criminal mastermind the city of St. Canard had ever seen.

First, he had tried pushing himself back out the way he came, but the bricks around him were tight, and the ones digging into his still trapped arm had started to cut off circulation. There’d be bruises from this, he knew, and blood had seeped into his yellow coat from a particularly sharp cut of brick digging into his ribs. And while Negaduck loved pain; watching someone else’s, being the cause of it, or having it turned around on him—He did _not_ want to lose an arm. That would be a real pain in the ass, and not the good kind. Second, he’d tried pushing himself forward, but with his rear so high off the ground and his one free arm at an awkward angle, he couldn’t get traction or push hard enough.

That left him stuck, the villainous duck’s only option being to wait for his nemesis to find and release him. The half-wit hero had been hot on his tail up until reaching the edge of the city, mister goody-good unfamiliar with the St. Canard’s darker corners. Dumb kid, first thing he should have done after donning that cape was go over every inch of the city and learn just why the further out it got, the less crimes were reported.

The new Darkwing wasn’t nearly as dedicated to his craft as Jim had been. It disgusted him, and now he had to wait for that lazy loafer, coasting off Jim’s coattails, to come and rescue him. Just thinking about the conversation the wimp would try to have with him, finally having Negaduck trapped and with no choice but to listen, made Jim sick to his stomach.

Or maybe that was the rancid stench rising up off the dumpsters a few feet ahead. It wasn’t the good kind of stench, the kind that curled Negaduck’s webbed feet and sent sharp toothed smile stretching up his beak. The smell of death and decay, the thick musky scent of fear. No, this smelled like someone had taken a shit beside the dumpster and it’d been sitting out in the sun, baking for days.

He grit his teeth and kicked in frustration. How long would it take his lesser to find him? Much as he was loath to accept any help from the wannabe, he would chance a pair of cuffs around his wrists over expecting any kind of generosity from his fellow criminal denizens.

Negaduck didn’t know how long he’d been in the hole, long enough for the stars to be filly visible, but time? No idea. He took his hat off and used it to dap at his sweaty brow. Fuck, it was hot. Negaduck had been in the hole long enough for his anger to fizzle out into irritation and boredom. Long enough for his trapped arm to have gone numb. Not a good sign, seeing as there was nothing he could do about it. How long before there was some kind of permanent effect? If there was, he’d sue Dorkwing for the damages. Or maim him. Probably both.

The brick was thick, but bored as he was, silent as the city had been, when the sound of footsteps came from behind him, he immediately perked up. Fucking finally. Next episode, he would definitely have to teach the kid about the importance of knowing a set. Every inch of it. Maybe he’d plant bombs all around the city and leave vague clues for the hero to follow. A little cliché, but it could work if the boy stuck to the script, left that dead weight of a partner behind.

“Took you long enough,” he groused, putting his hat back on and straining to look behind him. But of course, all he saw was wall.

There was no answer from the other side and Negaduck rolled his eyes. Petulant brat, he always threw tantrums like this whenever Jim tried talking. The response was either some sappy, heartfelt nonsense about _getting help_ , or total silence. Neither made for great tv and Jim was at the end of his rope with making the kid stick to the script. Villain and hero. Jim played his part beautifully; why couldn’t Drake do the same?

A familiar anger was beginning to creep back up, burning his chest and adding to the already sweltering heat of the air around him. Growling, he kicked out, aiming for anything that might be back there. Just some kind of reaction; Jim _hated_ being ignored.

He smirked when his foot connected with something solid. The big one? Heh, served him right. Always ruining his and Darkwing’s climatic finales, or worse, monologuing about how Jim could be better if only he’d let them help him. Pheh, it was impossible for Jim to be better. As Negaduck, he was already the best villain and foil to Darkwing Duck there could be. There was no improving perfect. Now, Drake, well, that kid could stand to learn a thing or two about keeping character.

And Jim was all too happy to teach.

“You caught me, Dark, now get me out of this damn hole.” He kicked again, grunting when his leg, right above his foot, was taken in a harsh grip. He tried jerking his leg out of whoever’s hold it was in, but not even a budge.

Negaduck laughed.

“Oh, feisty. Mad I kept you up past your bedtime, brats? Or is this about that _explosive_ display at the capital?” His laugh turned into a cackle, and then a yelp when his leg was squeezed tighter. Recovering quickly, he scratched the tips of his fingers against grimy brick, itching to return some of the pain being dealt.

“Hit a nerve, Dark? I hear the city is trying to sue you for every bit of collateral damage that—Yah!” His eyes widened and the smile fell from his face, replaced with a look of shock. One of those idiots had just touched his tail. And not in the painful, yanking feathers way, but in the…the _caressing_ way.

Recovering with a shake of the head, he glared at the wall behind him. “Hey, hands off the goods. I don’t do armchair auditions.” He tried kicking with his free foot, but all that resulted were weak hits against an unmoving object.

There was something off about the silence, and Negaduck started to wonder if it was even the hero behind him at all. If not them, who….

“Darkwing!” He shouted, blues and yellows circling the blacks of his eyes as a manic kind of panic engulfed him. “Fucking say something! You little… Hey, hey, don’t ignore me you little shit!” Negaduck slammed his free fist into the wall and clutched at air with the one pressed against his side.

The only response given was more strokes of his tail, a hand cupping his ass and squeezing. Then another set of hands ran over his cloaked back, around to his stomach, making it quiver, making him feel _queasy_. Anxious and worried, Negaduck started to sweat for a reason wholly unrelated to the heat.

Was…was it not Darkwing behind him? The harsh object he’d been kicking not the hero’s dopey sidekick? If not them, then it had to be a pair of criminals that called these dark alleys home. But who amongst them would be brave enough to touch Negaduck? The mob? They appreciated his hard work in the city; it kept the police and heroes’ eyes off their own illicit activities. The gangs? More than half of them were vying to be a part of the crew Negaduck didn’t have.

His leg was released and that harsh grip instead turned to his tail, and suddenly Negaduck didn’t care _who_ it was behind him.

“You… Get me out of this hole and I’ll forget all about this little incident, alright?” He wasn’t going to say he wouldn’t kill whoever it was on the other side, because that was a promise he couldn’t guarantee. All he could say was that he would forget it and never again revisit the embarrassing memory this night would become.

Nothing, no response. At least not a verbal one. The sounds of shuffling feet and Jim wished the chemicals he had soaked in, down in the sewers, had been radioactive. Maybe then he’d at least have x-ray vision so he could see who would next be added to list of bodies.

Hushed whispers from the other side and Jim thought that maybe they’d finally seen reason. A well-known fan of torture, he could make their passing quick or painful. How long they suffered under his blade would be determined by how long it took them to tear down the brick around him.

“Well?” He growled, already imagining the different ways he could splatter their remains against the blasted brick wall.

Another sharp tug on his tail was the only response given before something soft and wet was pressing directly against his entrance.

Negaduck yelped.

His legs shook, struggled to close, but with his ass in the air, there was nothing he could do to protect himself. The thing against him, it circled his entrance while a hand slid over and through his tail feathers. The tongue— it had to be a tongue, lapped over his entrance experimentally, pressing the tip almost inside before drawing back.

Jim’s beak hung open and his free hand scrabbled against the brick wall.

“Hey—Hey! What are you… Stop!” He shook his head, disbelieving as a hot beak kissed over his entrance and nipped at the tail feathers just above. Something dangerously close to pleasure pooled in his gut and Jim’s vision went shaky. His legs jerked, trying to find purchase on the ground, to pull away, but only the tips of his webbed feet slid across the pavement.

There were no words to answer Jim’s shouts, but that second pair of hands moved gently over his back, sliding underneath his coat and turtleneck. The mystery hands rubbed over his back in what Jim would almost describe as an attempt to soothe. But that was ridiculous.

The tongue, finished with its probing, pushed inside his now slicked entrance, and suddenly a beak was flush with his ass digging into the feathers and pressing hard against the skin underneath. Jim choked and had to swallow several times before he could speak.

“Fucking… Stop!” His shout wasn’t as loud as he wanted it to be. It couldn’t be, with how hard he was trying to prevent anything that could even be remotely mistaken as pleasure slipping through. Fuck no, he wasn’t enjoying this.

Of all the crooks who could have found him trapped, it had to be ones who were willing to sink lower than even Negaduck ever would.

Warmth tingled its way down to his crotch and Jim’s brows furrowed. He wouldn’t give the dead men behind him any reason to think they were doing a good job. Even if that thick, moist tongue pressed against his walls, filling him and making him wet with his own slick. It had just been so long. He couldn’t help it. A physiological response, or whatever they called it. Still, Jim had to clench his teeth when that tongue pressed against the sweet little bundle of nerves that had the duck seeing a separate set of stars than the ones shining high above.

He clenched his teeth and used every bit of muscle control he had to stop a full body shudder. Shit, fuck, he was wet, and not just from the tongue’s saliva. His walls clenched and his legs shook with every precise stroke against his sweet spot. Negaduck breathed deeply and deliberately, employing breathing techniques that had been learned to keep him working past the pain of a stunt gone wrong back in his own hero days.

Something wet dripped out of his hole and Negaduck didn’t need to see to know his slick had started to leak out of his entrance. It was probably dripping onto the pavement in hot little puddles.

“I’m going to **kill** you,” he promised in a deep growl, eyes screwed shut only to pop open as the tongue inside him left.

“Wha—” Jim cut himself off, eyes hardening into a glare. So, a death threat worked, huh?

He ignored how his legs still shook, how his open hole clenched around nothing as slick continued to leak out of him. Spilling onto his thighs and running down his legs.

Fuck, it’d been a while, that’s all it was. He’d get over it, and then _get off_ on it, once he had blood staining his hands the idiots behind him gasping their last breaths as he strangled them. Jim almost lost himself in the fantasy of eyes slowly dimming as a body underneath him stilled and turned cold. As it hardened beneath him, almost like marble. As fear permeated the air, the corpse’s partner terrified as Jim Negaduck turned his eyes and intentions on him.

Aw, fuck, murder was better than se—

“Ah!” Jim’s eyes widened and he looked behind him, willing the wall transparent to no avail. Something hard and warm had pressed against his entrance. The tip slapped against his entrance and then was pressing in and out, not even beginning to spread him open. Just testing, lining up, and Jim pounded his fist against the brick wall, bruising and bashing until the skin underneath was raw. Not caring, he would break the wall down with his own damn hand.

The cock, because that’s what it was, pressed against his entrance again, only this time it didn’t pulling away. The tip started to push inside and Jim screeched, “no, no don’t you _fucking dare_ —"

All at once, it slammed in and Negaduck threw his head back, eyes blown wide. His heart pounded wildly in his chest as his entrance was spread open around some stranger’s dick. It was longer than it was wide and it had stilled inside him. Jim breathed heavily through his nostrils, tail stiff as the pain of being suddenly stretched burned around his entrance. He wasn’t torn, the dick wasn’t big enough for that, but it had. Been. A. While.

A long, long, long time since he’d last been fucked, the villain preferring to be the one doing the fucking. Not that he had time for it since re-dawning his cape, or that he’d had the energy or drive in the years before.

The member inside him pulsed and Jim shook his hips, as though that could dislodge it. When all it served to do was move it around his walls, stirring him up. Making it hit that sweet spot inside him that made his eyes roll back in his head.

“P-pull out,” he managed to breath, the threat in his voice drowned out by the pleasure. No, fuck. He took several quick breaths before trying to kick the body pressing into him. Before the hit could connect, his ankle was being gripped again, keeping his leg in the air as the cock pulled out to the tip before pushing back in. Slowly.

It was agonizing.

“I’ll kill you,” Negaduck swore through clenched teeth. Heat traveled from his ass, to his crotch, and he felt his own member begin to peak through the feather covered slit. Oh, hell no. That wasn’t coming out because as an actor, even if is body enjoyed it, Jim was skilled enough not to let it show. He wouldn’t give the two behind him any reason to gloat before he dismembered them.

The cock pressed into him again, slid back, pushed in, every time picking up pace and force. His rear lifted a little in the air with every thrust, and through the brick Jim could hear the sounds of his attacker panting, moaning. Skilled as he was, he couldn’t stop his own pants, the soft gasps of pleasure that escaped his slightly parted beak. But he wasn’t loud, he controlled his voice that much, he wouldn’t be heard through the wall. They wouldn’t hear him.

That didn’t stop shame from warming the back of his neck, an unfamiliar feeling, one he had thought long since forgotten.

Before he could even begin to remember the last time he had felt anything akin to shame, there was something hot spilling into him. The thrusts became stuttery and he heard an orgasmic moan from behind. Cum coated his inner walls, and he groaned as the cock pulled out before finishing. He felt heavy drops land on his ass, on his back. Even in the warm night air, his ass felt cool from being emptied so abruptly.

That didn’t stop him from crowing with laughter, a nasty, mocking grin spreading across Negaduck’s beak, his sharp teeth on full display. Fucker hadn’t even lasted five minutes. “Is that it? Fucking pathetic. Killing you will be a mercy, you premature ejaculating motherfu—”

Abruptly, another much larger cocked pressed against his entrance and slammed into him all at once. It stretched him, filled Jim and made his ass burn from the stretch. He didn’t tear though, a shock considering how large the member pulsing inside him was. Bigger than Jim could ever remember taking, of the very few that he had. Had that previous dick just been a warm-up? A way to stretch him out before the big guy got his in?

Jim keened and the tips of his webbed feet scraped uselessly against the ground. He couldn’t get away, a much larger hand now gripping his ass, his tail feathers threaded though thick fingers.

He gulped in air, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as he was thrust into harshly, the burn a pleasant sensation making it almost impossible to stop his own erection from protruding.

Every rough thrust sent Jim’s body forward, making his sides dig into the wall even more. Sharp brick stabbed into his side and he moaned, pain an aphrodisiac better than any drug. His tongue lolled out the side of his beak and for a moment he lost himself to the pounding pleasure in his ass. It was only a hand pressing over where his member lay hidden that snapped him out of his heady bliss. Fingers rubbed over the feathers concealing his slit, a gentle juxtaposition to the harsh pounding in his rear. Jim tried to kick the man touching him, but his legs were too shaky, hips too sore, to do anything other than jerk uselessly at his sides.

Cum bubbled up around his entrance, a disgusting mixture of his slick, the release before, and the current cock’s precum. He was so fucking full. Negaduck thought he was going to burst. If he could move the hand pressed against his side, he’d be touching his stomach. See if he could feel the cock’s outline. He bet he could, bet it was so big that if Jim hadn’t been fucked seconds before, it would have torn him open. His blood would be turning that cum pink.

Jim’s eyes crossed, his member falling out of its slit at just the imagining. The hand pressed against his stomach wasted no time loosely gripping it. Its touch curious, one stroke, then the tips of fingers underneath his dick, tapping the tip where precum was leaking.

Negaduck growled, almost as furious at the teasing as he was at the entire circumstance itself. He opened his mouth to curse at the two behind him, berate them, swear vengeance, but all that came out was a moan. The hand on his member having finished its exploration and gripped firmly around him. Pumping intime with the thrusts into his sore ass. The thumb brushing over the tip with every upward stroke.

His eyes crossed and Jim’s free hand trembled as he stroked over his top bill.

“You’re dead,” he panted. “I’m going to… to k-kill you-Ah!” Negaduck jolted at a particularly hard thrust, the hand around his cock squeezing and becoming rougher at the same time. A pressure was building up at the base of his erection, and Jim felt the need for release. It clouded his mind; a crazed fog being blown away by a lustful storm.

Fuck. He was going to cum. Two strangers fucking him in the back of an alley against his will were going to make him cum. And Negaduck was going to kill them for it.

His hips jerked and the hand holding his tail tightened, pulling the feathers and nearly plucking him. It was the stinging pain that sent him over the edge.

Jim shouted his release. Slamming his open palm onto the brick as his hips trembled, his inner walls squeezed down on the hard cock still thrusting inside him. His cum came out in thick spurts and he hoped it got all over the hand holding him. He was milked through his release and the hand on his tail turned gentle. Negaduck keened as his spent, sensitive cock continued to be stroked and his ass still pounded into.

The thrusts’ rhythm had turned jerky, stuttering as Jim came. But they hadn’t eased, and now the dick behind him was thrusting harder and his ass was lifted higher. Making his back dig into the wall, making his sleeping, tingling arm hurt from the sting of forced movement. The head of his soft, sensitive cock was pinched and a full body shudder traveled through him at the pained pleasure it elicited. And fuck it was all just so much. Too much. His head drooped and Negaduck gasped for air like a drowning man.

His hat fell from his head to the ground and Negaduck stared into it, searching for a weapon that didn’t exist hidden inside. The hand on his dick left and Jim moaned at the loss. It had hurt so good, in that sharp way only an overly sensitized body could.

Jim was going to kill whoever was behind that wall then thank their corpses for the good time. Joke about how he hoped it was worth dying for.

Panting, Negaduck clenched the hand on the wall into a fist. His refractory period wasn’t what it once was, and the throbbing arousal he’d felt was quickly being replaced by a ticking annoyance. The kind that hand a countdown until Jim lost control and started tearing at anything he could reach; damn the consequences to his own body.

He was already fucked anyway. Ha!

His cackle turned into a grunt when the cock inside of him stilled, and something warm and thick started gushing into him. His brows furrowed as he was filled with another’s cum, as warmth once again spread through his stomach. It was a lot, too much, and Jim couldn’t hold all of it in. Wouldn’t have tried. He felt impossibly full, the sickening kind. Negaduck always watched what he ate, and suddenly he felt like he’d been fed a fatty, four-course meal. He struggled, trying push the man behind him back before he made Jim burst. All he managed were weak, trembling kicks that were more akin to light taps than the harsh blows he’d intended.

Fuck, but…it was over, right? The two dead men behind him had their fun and…and what if there were more than two? Jim’s eyes went wide as saucers, blue and yellow shining in the night as he looked back at the wall in a panic. There could be more. They could leave him here. Darkwing dipshit could find him. More could come. More could _cum._

Jim’s breathing became wheezy, focused more on the what ifs than the current. Even as he felt the cock, now limp, slide out of him. As cum gushed out of his ass and smeared over his feathers, dripped down his legs and pooled in a thick puddle underneath him. As his open, leaking hole twitched and clenched around nothing.

If another person so much as touched him, he’d burn the entire city block to the ground. Hell, he’d do it anyway. Remove this damn wall from existence and bash his head on the rubble remains until the memory of tonight was gone too.

“Y-you,” Jim licked his bill, staring at the wall as he forced menace he couldn’t muster back into his voice. “Had your fun, got one over on ol’ Negs. Now—”

“Negaduck!” His head whipped around with an audible crack to the sound of that all too gratingly familiar voice.

Darkwing Duck. Fuck.

Never one to let personal matters get in the way of a performance, Jim quickly wiped the look of shock from his face. Completely ignoring the way warm air blew against his exposed rear, drying the cum staining his feathers. How sticky, disgusting, and completely wrecked he felt. Under any other circumstances, he would have relished the feeling of absolute debauchery. As it was….

“Dark,” he chuckled. “Took you long enough; get lost?” His grin turned sharp as he noticed the hero was alone. No sidekick? “What, have to tuck tiny in for the night?”

The kid was standing at the front of the alley, moonlight silhouetting him and making the boy look damn near heroic. What with his hands on his hips, chest puffed up; why, the only thing that ruined it was Dark’s heavy breathing. Had the kid been running all over the city looking for him? The thought amused the villain, even if the hero’s lack of breath control was yet another thing he’d have to improve upon. Maybe gifting the kid with a pair of cement block shoes and tossing him in the St. Canard harbor would be an appropriate lesson, or maybe trapping him in a room full of toxic gas with the only way out being to figure out a set of increasing difficult riddles….

Darkwing walked into the alley, eyes hard as he looked at his trapped nemesis. Negaduck was quick with his warning, purposefully showing off pointed teeth as he said, “don’t get too close; I bite.”

“How,” the hero paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “How long have you been here?”

Negaduck shrugged, or did his closest approximation with only one arm free. “Oh, you know, long enough to have killed a few kittens, kicked some puppies, drowned an orphan or two.”

His prodigy needed to know that the longer he took to wrap up their episodes, the more of their viewers’ time he wasted. More importantly, the more of Jim’s time he wasted. At least the brat was staying in character. Had even called him Negaduck and everything.

“No, you haven’t,” the boy’s brows furrowed as he continued to step closer, looking from where his foe was trapped, to the hat on the ground, to Negaduck’s sweat soaked mask. “You really are stuck, huh?”

Negaduck rolled his eyes.

“Figure that one out on your own, kid? Wow, you really are the world’s greatest detective. I’m so honored to be passing on the torch to such a sharp mind.”

“You haven’t passed anything on to me!” The hero snapped, causing another wave of chuckles to ripple through Negaduck’s sore body. Yeah, sure he hadn’t. Just like he wasn’t training the boy to be a better Darkwing. Like everything he did wasn’t for the young mallard’s betterment as a hero.

**Everything** Negaduck did was for Darkwing’s sake.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say, Dark. Now why don’t you hurry and get me out of here so we can continue the episode?” He grunted and made a show of trying to push himself out, blood further staining his coat from where the bricks were digging into his ribs, rubbing the skin raw enough to bleed. He kicked a leg out behind him, finally having recovered enough strength to do more than tap, and was met with air. Gone then? Once Negaduck was freed, it would be the permanent kind of gone.

“Stop tha—No,” the kid shook his head, pressing his fingers into a furrowed brow before continued, sounding tired. “Arguing won’t get us anywhere. Think what you want, but— Look, while you’re trapped and can’t _literally_ bite my head off for trying, we should… talk.”

Oh fuck. Compared to this sympathetic, goody-two shoes redemption arc bullshit this kid kept trying to pull? Negaduck preferred the rapist.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Dark. Not unless you’re vowing to stop my plans, or are you finally ready for some classic villain-hero banter? It’s been months, kid. I’d thought you’d do a little research, but you’re so bad at it. It’s like you don’t even _try._ ” At anything, if it wasn’t a fight or saving some pathetic extra, it’s like the kid didn’t care about putting on a good show. It was annoying, but what could he expect from a dumb, young rookie? It’s why the kid needed Negaduck as his arch nemesis, needed to be shown the ropes by someone who didn’t just know them, but had been the one to thread them.

“There’s plenty to talk about; your test results, for one, the damage from the accident. How… how this isn’t _you._ ” Big eyes, full of sympathy looked down on Negaduck and he seethed. Clawing at the brick and imagining it was the kid’s face.

“I’m _me._ What you see is what you get and the sooner you get over what I was and face who I _am_ , the sooner we can start producing some really great television.” Negaduck reached forward, the hero finally close enough to touch. He gripped the kid’s hip, squeezing lightly. “You’ve no idea the plans I have for us. The ratings will be off the cha— Yeek!”

Negaduck squeaked. He fucking _squeaked_ when a hand palmed at his rear, smearing what cum hadn’t dried, rubbing the tip of his tail feathers and sliding back down for a finger to rim his opening. No, no not now!

He kicked hard as he could at whoever was behind him, but there was that damn immovable object again. What was the bastard made of, concrete? Negaduck growled, turning his head to glare at the wall, but quickly reminded himself that he was performing. Now wasn’t the time. Shit, he could…keep up the act. He’d not let himself be out done by some rookie.

“What was that?” The kid’s tone was almost mocking, and Jim would have congratulated him on the attempted banter, but he was too busy biting down on his bottom bill. Couldn’t let any more non-villainous sounds escape.

The finger pressing against his entrance pushed in, mixing around inside and making him feel gushy as cum and slick squelched and stirred around his inner walls.

“Nothing to say? And usually you can never stop talking….” Darkwing crouched so he and Negaduck were face to face, the hero taking his enemies’ lower bill in hand and forcing him to look up into the younger mallard’s eyes. The touch was soft, almost like a caress. The kid’s thumb plied over Negaduck’s lower bill before setting underneath to cup and hold his head up.

Negaduck shivered, it was a small break of character, but there was nothing he could do to hide how the touch was affecting him. From the front and behind now; he was going to lose his goddamn mind.

The finger inside him pulled out and he almost sighed in relief, but that would be giving too much away. So, he settled on a glare, about to remind the hero what he’d said about _biting_ , when something much larger lined itself up with his ass. He didn’t even have time to steel himself before a large cock was being shoved inside him, cum squirting out around where they connected. Was…it the same one? Negaduck didn’t know, but how many men could have a dick that big? Not like he’d taken time, or even had been of mind, to memorize its shape.

He bit his bottom bill hard enough to swear he heard the keratin crack. Still, Dark held his bottom bill, his eyes no longer full of that accursed sympathy. There was something else shining in their black depths, something Negaduck couldn’t name. He breathed heavily through his nostrils as he tried to anyway: anticipation, yearning _, excitement_?

To talk as the younger duck been begging for months, or…did the kid know? No, he couldn’t. That would mean he…Darkwing wasn’t that kind of hero. This boy was too squeaky clean to even think to…to take _advantage_ of. And fuck, if that weren’t a pathetic way to think about it. Negaduck. King of crime, being taken advantage of by some two-bit thugs not worth the gasoline used to fuel his chainsaw as he shredded them.

A hard thrust and Negaduck’s grip over the other’s hip tightened, using it to ground himself. To stop from himself from panting, scratching his fingers against the brick wall as he was fucked from behind by a complete stranger. Pleasure burned its way up the base of his spine, blurring his vision even as his eyes widened and the tip of his tongue poked out of his beak. That would keep him from talking, biting, making any sign of arousal. Had to. What did it matter if he looked a little ridiculous? He couldn’t let the kid know.

Then the pity would be back, and Negaduck would take any one of those unnamed emotions darkening his enemy’s eyes over that. Anything but that.

Darkwing stared reverently down at the villain before leaning forward, his words hot and breathily spoke mere centimetre from Negaduck’s bill. “So, Jim…,” the kid licked his bill, just a quick swipe, before continuing. “You finally ready to talk?”

**Author's Note:**

> This is shameless kink fulfillment. Not my best work, but it was whipped out fast. Huhu.


End file.
